The Reality Behind Stereotypes
by MissJenny
Summary: Everyone seems to be writing stories about the forbidden love between stereotypical groups as if it's the strangest yet most romantic thing in society but really, what is a stereotypical group anyways? People, after all, are just people. NarutoSasuke


Okayy, I promise this will be my last story and I'll update the rest as soon as possible... Don't hate me! ;-;**  
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**Disclaimer:** Nope, don't own Naruto. Very surprising, I know**  
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**The Reality Behind Stereotypes**

_ No one woke up one day and decided the world needed them. Stereotypes are created as a gradual process by the social-ed people, whose been around the block enough to times to be able to classify certain similar traits of others into neat but ignorantly organized groups._

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Prologue (or Oneshot?)

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-o-

"You shouldn't pretend to be someone you're not."

His eyes narrowed as they glowered still. _Though he was across the room, standing quite a few feet from me, I felt as him he was much close, as if he was only a few centimeters away and had me pinned underneath his strength._

"I-I don't know what you mean." The classroom was empty except for the two of us… I shuddered, suddenly reminded that this is how most murder/rape scenes occur in movies: without a witness.

Sasuke took a step forward. "You think I don't notice the looks you give me, those looks filled with envy. You want to have what I have: my grades, my popularity, my appearance, my self-confidence, my perfection." _I snapped at that_.

"What the fuck are you talking about, you weirdo!" _What an arrogant prick, declaring that I would think any of those thoughts!_ "What is your problem? You tell me you have something you needed to say in privacy and you bring me here to make insulting accusations?"

Any other person would have just been taken-aback but we've already established that this guy was a creep. He just laughed, though only a soft chuckle.

"I predicted you'd be this ignorant but I was hoping we could sidestep this part." He turned his face towards the window and looked thoughtfully outside. "But since you insist of doing it this way, I'll walk your delayed thought process through step by step."

_…Wow, you'd never have guessed this guy to be such a creep. Seriously, I guess you really can't tell a person by appearance._ "Ok weirdo, I don't have time-"

"You admire me, right?"

_-What?_ "What?" I replied, parroting my thoughts.

"Am I right?" _…Like I said, seriously weird._

"No! I would never admire a prick like you! –And that was before I knew you were this creepy!"

More laughter. "Pretend for a minute that you're not an imbecile. We both know you do and you just have a hard time noticing things about yourself. Many people don't seem to notice but it can really get annoying when you're trying to have a decent conversation."

Sasuke walked up and place his hand onto my shoulder. The mere contact sent shivers through my being; I didn't dare look into his creep eyes.

"Think about it. Don't you ever find yourself staring at me, jealous of how well I fitted in? Don't you ever find yourself wondering why people didn't adore you the same way, why you don't have a single friend-"

"No!" I lifted my head up to show him the defiant look I had on but when I stared into his eyes, I felt overwhelmed. I had originally thought he was weird but that look… it's so rigged, it's chilling.

Suddenly, his lips curved into a smile _borderlining that of_ _a sadist and that of the insane._ "I think you answered that a little too fast. Why don't you take some time and rethink that question."

What was he talking about…_ Did he think I wouldn't know how to answer questions about myself? I mean, of course I would have known whether I admired him or not… and if I ever even looked at him, much less stared… _

…_But now that I think about it, I have looked at him a couple of times… but it wasn't like normal people didn't look at each other! That's why we have working eyes, right? And I certainly would not have stared at him!_

…_At least, I think I never did. I mean, what reason would I have to stare at him…unless he was right and I actually admired him…and… couldn't admit it…_

…_I mean, he does have a lot of friends…a lot of admirers … a lot of things I plainly just don't have. Maybe I do admire him…_

No!_ What am I saying? Why am I questioning myself? I know I don't stare at him! I mean, why would I… Agh! What is he doing to me?_

"I see you're starting to get it." His smile deepened and I'm guessing I made a shocked face at that (_can you blame me_). That face;_ it's like he can see my thoughts._

Removing his hands from me, he took a couple of steps back (1) and again, returned his view towards the window. _The sun seems to be setting… I wonder how long our conversation has been going on._

"You know, I've never shown anyone this side of me and it's not hard to guess why." _Because you'd freak them out._ "-And it's not because I'd come off as a creep."

…_Ok, __**awkward**__ moment. How did he know I was thinking that? And I was kidding before –There's no such thing as mind reading in the real world. Am I really that predictable a person? _But he continued on.

"It's because I didn't expect them to be open-minded enough to even consider that people often are too ignorant to want to interpret their own feelings (the average person doesn't spend time analyzing him/herself) –like how you didn't realize or rather, wouldn't consciously admit that you admired me. It's really a pain if you think about it… people not wanting to admit things, that is. After all," he was still facing away but I can see his intense glare through the window's mirrored reflection, "You weren't that quick yourself."

"So why are you telling me all this?" I was emotionally confused. I was creeped out yet I wanted to know more… I was scared but furious at the same time because he keeps implying that I was dumb, _so dumb that I can't even understand my own actions… but I never thought of it like that… people subconsciously hiding things… it does make sense…_

"I'm telling you because I knew that eventually, I'd get through to you. But furthermore, I'm telling you because I can help you. I can help you understand the human psyche; I can help you fit in. And what will I get? I'll get entertainment and a chance to show myself for who I really am (just to you though). After all, if I keep my real self bottled in for too long, I'll drive myself insane."

I felt myself being pulled deeper and deeper into the conversation. I really wanted to make smart-ass comebacks like _Why are you assuming this all of this_ or_ Where's your proof_ but I couldn't. I felt myself dragging into his unproven claims (maybe it was the setting, his expression, and the tone of voice he's using), barely remembering to breathe.

"I'm going to help you because I know the type of person you are," he continued on when it became obvious I wasn't (or rather, couldn't) reply any time soon, "You're the type of person subconsciously bent on being unique, standing out from the rest and it's in that sense, you end up doing things many consider unusual. Your pissy retorts, your braggy attitude, your random antics, all of it (2). I'm going to help you because you're hopeless without me, trudging through life without much social skills and not having the ability to differentiate from what's accepted and what's considered plain odd. And I'll start off by telling you why people don't like you: they think you're too self-involved and weird. They think you act out and do what you do because you feel like it when in truth, you are doing no more than acting out a socially inept way of trying to gain their acknowledgement.

"But you have to realize, there's hope for you. You have to realize why you act the way you do, trying so hard to be weird," his eyes glinted with excitement, as if he was enjoying this conversation as much as a starving man enjoyed a savory steak, "I know you never thought of anything of this this profoundly but think of it this way: everything about a person is changeable, from the looks to the personality. What is so special about you that would make people remember the way you were, even when that person grows old and sometimes forgets even his/her most precious reminiscents? And what if you change, returning to the world with your fresh ten thousand dollar plastic face and the brand new personality you developed after years of sulking over the horrific death of your beloved family? But when you're weird, when something about you specifically stands out, you will always live on as a vivid memory, whether good or bad, even if you were to die the very next day (you realize how people seem to intensely mourn over the dead for a while but try hard to forget it, to move on with life). And with that in mind, is it really such a bad thing to want to be unique, to try to make others remember you differently from others?

"Of course, you're naturally an over-spoken person, contributing to the other aspects of your earlier development that I don't know about. But even if that's so, isn't that the reason you try so hard to stand out –the fear of being forgotten?"

He ended the inquiry with a comprehensive tone of voice, whether it was because of the conversation or because of my reaction. You're wondering what my reaction was? Well, it was the stupidest thing: _I just stared_. I started with my mouth opened because obviously, I have never thought of any of those things before!

"What, you're not going to ask any questions?" he questioned, showing his face to be baring a smile. "I said quite a lot and left out quite a bit? You don't want to ask _Why would anyone want to be remembered so badly _or _What kind of person would choose to remember something stupid you did over the memory of his love or the day he forever crippled himself in the car crash_?"

"W-Well," I managed to squeak out but paused to clear my throat a couple of time before continuing. However, when I finished, I had already forgotten what I originally wanted to say. "…I figured you'd tell me anyways," I finished lamely.

He chuckled again except this time, it kinda' relaxed the atmosphere. _…I honestly don't know why it's levitated the tension but it's probably just from my perception._

"Well, when some people think about dying (in a depressing manner of thinking, though) and, if they're not religious, they often are troubled by the idea of their souls just disappearing from the world. From that point, the person might want to start a family to leave traces of his actual being, to prove that he actually existed, but as time passes on, generation after generation, he'll be forgotten. What can he do to be remembered? He can do something unique and be remembered for that, whether it's playing the hero, murdering hundreds innocent, writing Harry Potter, or publicly eating his arm."

Sasuke took a short breath interval, ready to continue only to stop and glance at the clock hanging behind him above the blackboard. It was already eight-thirty and from the windowpane, it looked pretty dark out there.

"Let's finish this conversation another time, provided that you still want to continue," he said with a warm smile, like he was satisfied that he finally got through to me. He then started to head for the door.

Looking timidly on the floor as if I'm about to reveal my deepest secret, I cut off his exit with a reply. " W-Will really help me… to make friends, that is."

Again, he smiled. "I can help you understand it all, understand people well enough to know what to say at the right times and at the end of it, we'll redefine the typical stereotypes with something more practical, more suitable for each unique person."

And with that, he left… and I stood all alone in the room, dumbfounded in the legs and listening to the clock tick silently.

His smiles seemed to be mocking me but I couldn't help but interpret a soothing feeling behind them. _…But it's probably just me thinking too much._

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Little Side Comments:

(1) Omg, when I wrote that, I had a picture of him moonwalking .…-.-

(2) You probably don't know what he's talking about here… seeing as how I didn't show a school scene showing Naruto's average day in school (like all those other high school stories with Naruto being the "unaccepted loser")...yeah... don't hate me! ;-; .

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I'm not sure if I'm going to continue this story. When I was proofreading this chapter, I realized that in order for this story to happen, I'd have to either make up a BUNCH of characters or make the anime's characters INCREDIBLY out of character (I'm capitalizing stuff so it'll catch people's attention more ')… What do you think? _**Continue?**_


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